Things that happened in one particular cupboard in the TARDIS
by waitingforthatlittlebluebox
Summary: This is my entry for the TARDIS Ficathon over on Tumblr. Rose hears noises one night in the TARDIS and decides to investigate.


A/N: This is my entry for the TARDIS ficathon over on Tumblr. Haven't posted any DW fic before so I thought I'd give it a go.

(It would be super awesome if you could leave me a review with what you thought)

Prompt: _a storage closet (of whatever size you would like) on the TARDIS_

Requested by** isilienelenihin**

* * *

Wet hair slowly dripping down her neck and soaking the collar of her flannelette pyjama top, Rose peered around the doorway to her bedroom. She'd just showered and dressed for bed, but somewhere in the TARDIS, someone- no names mentioned, Doctor- was making an awful lot of noise. The sporadic sound of unknown items being dropped, or more likely thrown across the room, seemed disproportionally loud from her bedroom, seeing as the unidentified noise was likely coming from the other side of the TARDIS. Then again, this ship was anything but straightforward and predictable. Rose had a feeling the TARDIS sometimes moved rooms just to tease her.

Nevertheless, Rose decided to trace the racket to its roots. The metal grating was cold under her bare feet as she padded down the corridor, trying to follow the sound. She rounded a corner, then another and a third, hoping she was going towards the Doctor, not just into the seemingly infinite space the TARDIS seemed to have. But the banging and crashing was getting louder, and the Doctor's mutters to himself could be heard underneath all that commotion, so she knew she was close.

Rounding one final corner, her smile of relief quickly turned into a smirk of amusement. This section of the corridor was short, ending with a cupboard around the size of a tool shed. Facing Rose, the door was swung wide open, bits and bobs of all sort lying scattered on the floor both inside and outside the cupboard. And on all fours on the floor, up to his elbows in gadgets of all descriptions, was the Doctor. He has his back (and other rear-facing anatomy, she couldn't help but notice) to her, so didn't seem to notice her come in at first. He was obviously quite absorbed by his task so she moved quietly closer, hoping to catch him in the act.

"Rose!" he exclaimed brightly- no hope of surprise with this one- "I thought I smelled you- uh, your shampoo, I, uh, well anyway, I thought you went to bed?" He turned to face her, still on his knees.

"I did," she replied, trying and failing to sound stern, "but I could hear you chucking stuff about all the way from my room! Think the TARDIS might have an echo or something"

The quirk of the Doctor's mouth gave her the impression this wasn't quite the case, but she didn't push it- much more interesting things were afoot.

"Whatcha doing with all this lot then?" she queried with a tongue-touched smile.

"Oh just a bit of clearing out- you know time-travellers accumulate so many trinkets and whatnot..." he trailed off evasively.

Rose didn't miss his foot quickly kicking a few objects out of her sight. She raised her eyebrows pointedly towards the objects in question and he blushed. Deciding to skip the hour-long lecture on why his timelord physiology meant he _simply-could-not-be-blushing-Rose_, she said nothing, but knelt beside him, reaching over to grab these mysterious objects. To her surprise, the Doctor's strong, manly, hairy hands came up to grip her shoulders gently, holding her back from whatever he was hiding.

"Oh no no no Rose you really don't need to see those," he urged, pushing against her shoulders, trying desperately to keep her away. She wriggled out of his grip with a wide grin, crawling nearly on top of him to reach what she was sure must be something truly embarrassing- baby photos maybe?

Her hands reached behind him even as his own came up around her to pull her away again- but it was too late.

"Aha!" she cried, her fingers now tight around two small pen-like cylindrical objects. The Doctor reached around her in an attempt to grab them from her, but she ducked him and shifted across the floor. For a moment she thought he might chase her- her heart beat a little faster at the idea- but instead he sunk to the floor, admitting defeat.

"What are these, Doctor?" she teased, waving them about alluringly.

"Holo-pens," he answered with resignation, "They're like what you call 'magazines', but instead of using paper, they project onto any flat surface. I picked them out at that night market on Rasterlax 7."

She remembered that planet, all its funny pink food and bizarre obsession with hats. Curiously she looked down at the pens, sure the only thing that would explain the Doctor's embarrassment would some weird kind of alien porn. But as the TARDIS translated the alien script on the side of the pens, she too began to blush.

"_Human mating rituals of the 21st century? Your 21st century girl: A guide to_- Doctor, what's all this? Rose looked at him, expecting him to brush it off with a light-hearted dig at the inferiority of the human race as he usually did, but kept his head down and said nothing. Her eyes widened and she shuffled across the cupboard floor to sit next to him.

"Doctor?" she prompted, careful now- his silence was usually not a good sign.

He lifted his head- his eyes widened suddenly at her closeness- and she could now see the bright redness of his cheeks. Sheepish and a little defensive, he met her gaze.

"They're, um, I bought them for, because, oh, you humans are so damn complicated!" he exclaimed in exasperation, "All those 'no's that mean 'yes' and all those 'yes's that mean 'do-that-and-you'll-get-the-silent-treatment-for-a -whole-day' and- Rose! Why are you laughing, it's not funny!"

He pouted and crossed his arms, which only seemed to make it funnier.

"Sorry, Doctor," she breathed between chuckles, "I just- it's just-". She laughed again, resting her head against the Doctor's arm. "Never mind, it's sweet," she finished, trying to suppress the rest of her laughter for the sake of the Doctor's ego.

He looked down at her, his pout softening to a grin as he locked eyes with her. However, the moment was short lived.

"Rose! Your hair is all wet! You'll get sick- can't have a sick human on the TARDIS, Rose," he lectured with fond concern on his features, hands coming up on either side of her face to reach for her hair. He slowed his movement as soon as he realized what he had done. He started to move away, pulling his hands back but Rose reached up and caught them, stilling their retreat. After a moment's hesitation he reached for her hair again, gently weaving his fingers through the damp strands.

"See?" He didn't expect the small creak of his voice which accompanied the word, "it's wet."

She laughed again, this time softer, and shuffled closer to him until their faces were just too close to hold a casual conversation. Both equally tentative, they held the moment, neither of them sure how to continue.

"Doctor..." she managed after the silence became too dense to bear. He blinked harshly, as if waking from a trance of sorts.

"...what exactly are you doing in this cupboard?" she finished lamely, deciding the moment had passed.

"Oh! Yes, um, looking for something, it's a little thing I had once when- Oh wait!" he exclaimed, untangling his fingers from her hair to reach past her. She bit her lip to hide the disappointment at the loss of contact, but it was quickly replaced by the thrill of his shoulder pressed tightly to hers as he rummaged around on the shelf behind her.

After a few moments he sat back with a triumphant smile, proudly displaying-

"-an egg!?" she exclaimed, her voice disbelieving, "you've turned this cupboard inside out looking for an egg?"

He put on a slightly wounded expression. "Not an egg, Rose," he pinched it top and bottom between his thumb and index finger, "it's a- a- like a mobile, here, see."

As he spoke, the 'egg' took on a slight golden glow and the shell cracked long-ways into four sections, splitting open from the top. Inside was a smaller egg with a brighter gold glow, which projected a large golden map of stars- real stars, not the fake five-point stars on children's bedroom walls- which moved slowly on the ceiling. The egg also seemed to be emitting soft, tinkling, peaceful music.

"It's beautiful!" she said wondrously. "Where did you get it?"

"It was mine, when I was a child on Gallifrey. Parents used them for children who often had nightmares."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?

"Have nightmares? When you were small?"

"I- I suppose I must have, yes."

Rose glanced quickly up at the Doctor, then shifted closer, reaching for the egg.

"Can I hold it?" she asked.

"Of course yes, I mean, I found it for you," he replied quickly, placing the egg in her outstretched palm, but leaving his hands to cup hers. She whipped her head around to look up at him- somewhat difficult with the way he sat almost completely wrapped around her.

"For me?"

"Yes," he said almost shyly. "You haven't slept well since we had that run in with the devil or whoever he was, I hear you sometimes at night and I just thought maybe you were like m- maybe you couldn't... never mind, it's silly," he tried to brush it off.

Rose stared at the egg in her hands, trying to process all this new information. _He'd heard her crying out in her sleep,_ she thought in mortification. And then on the other hand: _was he going to say 'like him'? Did he have nightmares too? Could you have nightmares if you never slept anyway?_

His sudden dismissal of the gesture woke her back into the present.

"No- I love it," she assured him, cupping her hands around the egg and shutting it. She held it to her chest, spinning around so she was on her knees facing him- admittedly closer than planned. "Thank you," she looked him straight in the eye.

"Then you're very welcome!" he grinned in reply. Without allowing herself to contemplate it further, she pressed her lips to his, savouring the warmth and shape of his mouth. His hands came up instinctively to cup her face as his lips returned the kiss. Shutting her eyes tightly, she delighted in his scent, the feeling of his large, gentle hands against her skin. She moved against him, deepening the kiss, and he responded, pulling her closer to his body, fingers trailing down her sides to settle on the small of her back.

A sudden metallic groan was all the warning they had before the shelf they were leaning on gave way, and along with it the three shelves above. Luckily for them, the Doctor seemed to have stored only rubber bounce balls on these shelves but none the less he dived over her, shielding her from the worst of the onslaught.

Both laughing madly with adrenaline and amusement they lay on the floor for a while, basking in the sheer madness of the night. After a while the Doctor stood, chivalrously offering Rose a hand up. She too stood, dusting herself off, but did not release the Doctor's hand. Together they exited the cupboard, walking to the end of the corridor together.

"Maybe it's time you really got to bed," the Doctor suggested reluctantly.

"Yeah, think so," Rose replied, and started off towards her bedroom.

"You're still holding my hand, Rose."

"I know, Doctor."

"My room is the other way."

"I know, Doctor."


End file.
